Run | TMR X PJO [ Editing ]

Twelve | Group A

Chapter twelve, in which the trio become heroes.

The Griever seemed mildly shocked that the  three boys actually had the balls to go after it—the first thing it did was rear up yet again with a series of angry hisses. 

Minho and Thomas didn't look very intimidating; the two only had long daggers that couldn't be tougher than your average blade of metal. But Percy. His eyes were wild yet focused. His movements reckless yet controlled. He was a hurricane of power that no one could possibly explain in a coherent sentence. 

"Distract it in the front!" Percy called, hoping that Grievers couldn't understand English. "I'll head my fine ass over to the back and get it from there." 

The two Runners nodded. "On it," Thomas said. They began to jab at the Griever here and there. That only made it more angry, though the pair hoped that was what Percy wanted—they weren't too sure on what exactly he wanted them to do when he meant 'distracting.' 

Percy charged from behind. Somehow he managed to climb on top of it. The Griever snarled and attempted to buck him off, but he refused to get thrown off. Thomas took advantage of that. He threw his knife, hitting the Griever square in the eye. A wild throw had actually gone right, unheard of elsewhere. 

It screeched in pain, and Percy looked frantically for a place to dig his sword in as well. Green goo leaked out of its blind eye, the squelching noises muted by the monster's cries of suffering. 

There was an adrenaline rush between the three of them. They could all feel it, Percy the most. This fighting style. He used it before! Where he had used it, he wasn't so sure, but the familiarity was there. 

With a renewed energy, the three charged once more. The robot spider was overwhelmed by their strength. Percy rammed Riptide into the nape of its neck, severing the head.

It was creepy. For about a minute the body jerked, as if it was having a seizure. Mostly it made moves to the boys, who were covered in the Griever's slime. The body fell down, still and dead. 

"That's just gross," Minho coughed. "Oh for the love of Minho, my hair!" 

"Speak for yourself," Percy grumbled. "Sword is dirty." He raised Riptide, which was also covered in goo, trying to remove at least some of the slime in case it proved corroding. 

Thomas dodged as Percy carelessly waved the sword around. "Watch it mate, you'll sever my head too if you keep that up."

He laughed carelessly—it wasn't like he'd kill Thomas in the first place, accident or not. "Sorry."

"Looks like we got a budding bromance here,"  Minho teased. "Then you guys can come to me and Newt's wedding."

"You. Newt. Together?" Thomas cried in wonder. It was as if he had never heard of sarcasm or a joke, the boy incredibly bewildered as to what secret romance Newt and Minho had harbored after all that time. 

Minho glared at him, though it was playful and teasing. "Dude take a joke for once!"

Percy laughed. "Tommy he ain't gay. We all know he's got the hots for Teresa."

"Don't call me that," Thomas hissed, red creeping up to his cheeks like a river flowing upstream. "O-only Newt can call me that." 

"So you're saying Newt is cheating on Min Min with you? That's throwing away a diamond and picking up a pebble," Percy drawled with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Newt really needs to consider his choices again, he's making such bad life decisions..." 

At that, Minho got highly defensive and nudged Percy with a goo-covered foot. "Shanks, let's just go back already. Don't want anymore buggers creeping after us."